As we eat breakfast the next morning, Baylee and May come barreling into the dining hall, grins stretched so wide they could rival the orbit of Pluto.
That only means one thing: they want something from their father.
Baylee climbs onto Drake’s knee while May curls up on mine, snuggling in without a word. I wrap my arms around her, savoring the closeness. She rarely seeks cuddles, so when she does, I cherish every second.
I kiss the tip of her little nose, making her giggle. That laugh—light and warm—never fails to melt me.
“Daddyyyyyy?” Baylee sings, her tone sugary sweet. The glint in her eye gives her away—she’s about to ask for something ridiculous.
“Bayleeeeeee?” Drake mimics, winking at me. He knows her just as well as I do, but unlike me, he’s completely wrapped around her littl
